


Intricacies

by kuro49



Series: 200 subs promptathon of 2020 [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: M/M, Spanking, Temporary Lazarus Pit Madness, Wax Play, Wife Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: Red is not stop. Yellow is not slow down. And green is not go.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: 200 subs promptathon of 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622572
Comments: 11
Kudos: 130





	Intricacies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scandalsavage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/gifts).



> scandal originally asked for [dick giving into those darker desires that has been hinted at before](https://setsailslash.tumblr.com/post/190891251486/for-your-celebration-wifey-jason-au), and this is, somewhat (not really), that 😂 we all know how i am with actually fulfilling any of the prompts i get. also no one ask me how any of these fics for my promptathon are supposed to be like 200 words. 
> 
> and of course, happy birthday scandal!! hope you have an amazing day 💖

Red is not stop. Yellow is not slow down. And green is not go. 

They use a colour system unlike most. But it is one that works painfully effective for them.

Standing upright on shaky legs, just barely though, Jason grips the kitchen counter until he can almost hear it creak with his strength. Jason’s throat itches and it aches, his voice comes out hoarse on every count, and the skin there feels deeply bruised to match the rest of him.

Jason breathes out through his mouth, a loud laboured noise, and it hitches as the wooden spoon comes down over his ass.

“I didn’t hear that last count, baby.” Dick says coolly from where he stands just behind him. His grip on the handle of the spoon is just as tight, knuckles white while his palms burn pink through to red. “Is this your way of asking that we start again?”

Jason lifts his head from where it hangs, between the broad cut of his shoulders and the skimpy straps of the apron that is still clinging to him. He shakes his head, turns his head to look at Dick, and repeats: “Fifty.”

The startling green in those eyes haven’t faded completely but it no longer makes Dick want to take that physical step back in instinct for self-preservation. 

Earlier the same night, Jason climbs in through the window smearing blood all along the sill. Like a macabre painting reeking a very real pungent scent of sour rust.

“Jason.”

“Don’t.” Jason murmurs and he hopes Dick can understand a fraction of what he needs. “I—”

It’s every bad feeling he’s ever felt amplified by a hundred thousand times. Rage and hate and scorn, contempt lighting up every last nerve endings while the anxiety cuts clean through. It is self disgust smeared across his tongue, grief and frustration in the grit of his teeth, shame and a deep set of sadness settling inside of his bones. His breathing is ragged, his lungs burn.

It feels _good_ when it’s hard to breathe, better yet when it hurts so vividly to breathe. A sensation to focus his attention to.

“Is this your blood?”

Jason stares blankly at Dick, and Dick asks again, this time drawing Jason’s eyes to his hands as they reach up to work the edges of Jason’s domino mask off. It takes some time, the adhesive is strong and Dick’s dissolving spray doesn’t quite seem to work all that well with Jason’s sealing agent, makes the skin it sticks to bright pink when Dick finally gets it to peel.

As Dick gets the mask completely off, Jason’s eyes are burning green, near neon in the dim kitchen of Dick’s apartment filled to the brim with memories of them doing every kind of dirty thing.

“Jason. I need to know if this is your blood.”

Dick is a calm center Jason clings to even when the shrill sounds of the television from the next room kicks him into overdrive, makes him want to scream, perhaps break a few things or two, maybe a person or two. When in this state, Jason cannot afford the luxury to be picky about who he _hurts_.

“Y- _yes_.” Jason stutters out. Blinking slow even if it doesn’t feel that way, not when the window he came through is still open, not when he can still hear the way the traffic seems to blare louder and louder, tires screeching across the asphalt just a few stories below.

“Yes what?” Dick asks, easing Jason’s leather jacket off, notes the tears and the wide gashes that got through even the underarmour Jason has on.

“Yes, make me bleed.” Jason goes still, his voice going soft. “Please.”

Red is not stop. Red is a request to make it hurt.

This is not that, this is different than that. Jason sees green and it's like the pit is filling up every fucking inch of his lungs again. He could beg if that's what Dick wants but he knows Dick seldomly wants that unless he explicitly asks for it. 

“Sweetheart, I’ll do anything you want but you gotta be good for me.” Dick tugs Jason’s gloves off, sees the ring around Jason’s fingers, and smiles despite himself. Jason coming to him prepared at all feels like a step forward in the right direction.

“Always.” Jason breathes out, eyes sliding shut. His feet feels unsteady and the depth of the water feels unfathomable.

Dick asks again. “Whose blood is this?”

“I—” Jason gulps audibly, eyes squeezing shut. “Mine.”

Dick’s hand works Jason’s belt open, pops the button free, drags the zipper down. “Okay.”

“Are you…?” Jason stops, keeping still, his chest heaving with each gulping breath he takes, his skin already shiny with a thin sheen of sweat that gathers.

Dick doesn’t hurry, keeps his own pace that helps to draw Jason’s attention from the pit madness that keeps coming up to a boiling point inside of his head. “Am I what?”

“Are you mad?”

Jason’s pants are pushed over his hips, pulled down the widest part of his thighs to fall to the ground and around his ankles. Dick catches Jason’s hands, guides him forward to step out of the last of his clothes. “Am I supposed to be angry?”

“I don’t know.” Jason leans into Dick. And while the other man takes the brunt of his weight without even a grunt, Jason’s voice stays at that same soft quickened pace like he’s trying to get it all come out at once. “I’m sorry for making you hurt me though.”

“This is the furthest thing from that.” Dick murmurs, wrapping Jason in his arms and waiting for the way the other man slumps into the embrace. It feels important for him to confess to something this intimate even if Dick has an idea that Jason is probably too out of it to remember any of this as anything more substantial than a rough bad dream. He still says it though, finds it a necessity to give voice to what he wants. “I’m always going to take care of you, Jay.“

The soy candle drips a deep red.

Over the swell of Jason’s ass to run down the back of his thighs. Some of it dries there while some drips to the kitchen floor. Looking like fresh blood trickling all the way down to pool between the tiles.

Jason’s knuckles are completely white, holding perfectly still as he clings to the edge of the kitchen counter, every single count of his breathing comes out on a shudder while he is bent at the waist, almost at a neat ninety degree angle as he waits for that next drop of hot wax to splash against bare skin.

The apron hangs off of him, the mint green trimmed in lace.

Dick is still mesmerized even after so many times.

They have done all of this before, not quite like this and not quite in this order but it’s hardly Jason’s first time handling a bout of pit madness. It’s not even the first time Dick has helped ease him through it.

Green is not go. Green is a cry for _help_. 

It doesn’t mean Dick can’t feel some resemblance of guilt when the bright red of Jason’s ass is on full display for him. The wax cooling over where the skin is still entirely tender from every smack received. Yet all Dick himself wants to do is to reach out and spread those abused cheeks apart to expose his hole.

One that only he gets to use so thoroughly, leaving it to gape and drip and leak his semen alone.

It's inherently possessive, all the things Dick wants to do to Jason.

He wants to drag the full length of his cock over Jason’s hole, to clean off the precum from his cockhead over Jason's hole, over and over again but not inside. To bring them both close enough to the edge enough times for it to hurt, and the only preparation he gives Jason will be all the times he’s taken him before when he finally pushes in, savouring the tight heat of him as he opens him up the rest of the way with just his cock.

It is visceral pain marring every inch but here is Dick standing just behind Jason, his erection painfully hard and straining visibly against the inside of his pants.


End file.
